And Your Bird Can Sing
by Love In The Key of C
Summary: 1950's Faberry. Quinn takes Rachel out for a bike ride to the outlook and finds herself falling further in love with the girl in the cottage.  Title from one of my favorite Beatles songs.


She rounds the bend of the road, the tires on her bike making a skidding noise on the pavement, indicating how fast she's flying and how hard she's pedaling. Her floral cotton dress bunches under thighs and her white canvas sneakers turn a darker shade of white with every speck of dirt that finds its way onto her clothing. Her tongue sticks out of the side of her mouth as she cautiously maneuvers parked cars and fire hydrants and trees and playing children. Short blonde hair flaps out off the back of her neck in the summer breeze and smacks her in the face like the daily heat. In her bicycle basket there's a tin lunch box holding a bagel with cream cheese for Rachel and a peach jam sandwich for herself, along with a canteen of lemonade and two clementines wrapped in napkins. She used to have peanut butter with strawberry jelly until she realized that Rachel was allergic and never had much of an appetite for peanut butter again. There's also a blanket, an empty ginger jar, the camera that her father bought her and a sketchbook with pencils.

Once she hits Westview Boulevard she hangs a right on Prospect Street and keeps pedaling, fast and hard. She passes Finn and Noah playing ball with the boys in the WMHS schoolyard, and Miss Pillsbury waving to her as she plants tulip bulbs in her front yard. She breezes past Pierce's Pharmacy, the Woolworth's on 6th Street and the little Hummel Gas and Repair Station by the grocery store. She sees Sam fixing cars outside the station, like always, trying to earn some extra money for his parents. He smiles and nods at her and she waves back, in far too much of a hurry to stop to have some pop like usual. She's almost reached the diner where she and Rachel split malt shakes (it's also where Santana works a summer job as a waitress) when she slows down and makes a left, a smile growing on her face by the time she sees it. There, on the corner of Payne and Spruce, away from some of the business of downtown Lima, a quaint little cottage with a white picket fence and a blue pickup truck parked in the driveway. She hops off her bike and walks it through the gate, up to the porch and lets it fall on the grass before ringing the doorbell. And when the door opens, there's her smiling girl, brown haired and sparkly eyed, all pure happiness and Rachel. Shyly, the blonde reaches out her hand and brings Rachel down the porch steps. She picks up the bike, swings one leg over the seat and says, "Hop on; we're going for the ride of a lifetime."

Rachel pipes up a curious voice and asks, "Will there be refreshments, Quinn?"

"Of course, my dear." And with a kiss on the cheek after a careful scan, Quinn goes from determined to melting molasses in a heartbeat.

…

"Where exactly are we going Q?" Rachel asks, her arms wrapping tightly around Quinn's middle as they fly down the road, avoiding bumps and potholes only the way a neighborhood rider can.

"Secret," Quinn whispers, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she swerves with great concentration. Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes, but doesn't ask much more until they find themselves at the edge of town with only a large grassy hill between them and that neighboring borough. Rachel's eyebrows knit together but Quinn only coerces the tin lunch box into one of her hands and grasps the other as she lets the bicycle tip over quietly to blend in with the high grasses and wildflowers. The blades of grass tickle their legs as they march to the summit, Rachel ever so often sighing; only awaiting Quinn's voice to convince her to keep moving. She's glad she has when she finds herself looking over the top of the hill.

"Golly Quinn," Rachel gapes and she stares at the miles and miles of green pasture and low rolling hills set before her. Quinn grins eagerly and tugs Rachel down to the ground. The grass is much shorter here, the mark of many a lover taking a trip to see the incredible view. Sitting Indian-style, Quinn pops open the tin box and pulls out their clementines and lemonade. Leave it to Rachel to suggest that the flavors clash but fall silent when she tastes a drop of the sugary sweet and sour drink that Quinn has perfected through years of lemonade stands. Rachel never stops staring at the simple view laid out in front of her. She continually says, "but there's just so much of it…" and tears off another clementine wedge and mashes it in her mouth, the citrus smell enveloping them the way Quinn adores.

"I used to come here a lot," Quinn says depositing of her peels by chucking them skyward and letting them roll down the hill. "When mom and dad would fight or missing Jill just became too much and I couldn't stand her being away." Jill, Quinn's sister, had run off to New York City when Quinn was 14 to explore urban life and fall in love. Fall in love she did, but she never wrote home enough to make sure Quinn was alright which she most certainly wasn't. "Whenever I felt like everything was getting to be too much…the anxiety and the yelling and always feeling like no one really cared…I would come here. All the space makes my little troubles seem so…bearable. Like they're just a blip in a world full of problems." Quinn looked straight ahead into the distance, as if concentration on the hills would give her answers. "I never know what to think about when I wonder about us. You and me. They all say this is wrong but it feels so right. And Santana and Brittany—"

"Nothing about us is wrong Quinn." Rachel said sternly. "We have it right. And so do Brittany and Santana. And so does Kurt. We care and we love and we —"

"Say that again."

"What?"

"What you just said."

"About Kurt and Blaine?"

"No, the other thing. We and care and…"

"We love."

Quinn turned around and faced Rachel looking right into her deep brown eyes.

"Do you love me?"

"Well, yes. Don't you love me?"

"More than anything."

"Really?"

"Really."

Somewhere between "I love you" and a spilled glass of lemonade, their lips smashed together and Rachel grabbed both sides of Quinn's face. Quinn loosely hung her arms around the back of Rachel's neck, pushing her backwards and placing three separate and loving kisses on her lips. 1-2-3. Then a kiss to the cheek. A kiss on the nose. And a kiss on the lips. Running her hands softly down Rachel's upper arm, she grazed her thumb over the inside of her elbow and slid her hand down to Rachel's wrist and slipped her fingers into Rachel's. She smiled and Rachel smiled back. She mouthed a simple "I love you" and lay down next to Rachel, burrowing into her side, and breathing into her neck. One soft kiss to her neck, and she held tightly onto Rachel.


End file.
